All You Ever Dreamed
by dreamywriter19
Summary: Remus turns it in his head over and over again, trying to pinpoint when exactly his feelings for Hermione Granger veered from strictly platonic to something not anywhere near as appropriate. Remus/Hermione Oneshot.


A/N: So. I'm not really sure where this came from. I'm one of the rare people who gave in to the Harry Potter calling only recently, so I'm only halfway through _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire _so far. But after I finished _The Prisoner of Azkaban_, my mind was just itching to get some Remus/Hermione out of my system. However, I've been spoiled about quite a few things that happen, if not all, so this fic mentions some events from later on in the series, as well as conveniently ignores others.

Anyway, like I said, this is my first attempt at writing for this fandom, so I'm afraid the characterisation might be a bit rusty. Drop a review and let me know what you think?

Disclaimer: Clearly, I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, lots of things would have gone differently- namely, most of the deaths and Remus and Hermione's endgame pairings. The honour goes to J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury.

* * *

He's not sure how it happened. Not that it really matters, mind you- it did and now there's nothing left to do but deal with it. But still, Remus turns it in his head over and over again, trying to pinpoint when exactly his feelings for Hermione Granger veered from strictly platonic to something not anywhere near as appropriate.

_Is this the end of the moment_

_Or just a beautiful unfolding_

_Of a love that will never be?_

He saw her as nothing but Harry's friend, at first. She was one of the two kids his best friends' son constantly turned to, one third of the tornado he quickly comes to think of as the Golden Trio. She was unusually bright, that he noticed fast enough. In fact, Remus would be lying if he said he never thought Hermione might be the most likely candidate to find out his secret when the time came. But the full moons came and went, and Remus was left to exhale a sigh of relief when she never said a word about it or looked at him any differently.

He thinks it was when he realised she'd known all along and still looked at him the same way she always had that he went from seeing her as Harry's friend to thinking of her as Hermione, the brightest _and kindest_ witch of her age.

* * *

He kept up with her life through Sirius and Harry. Harry would tell Sirius about his friends, and Sirius would pass the news to Remus. He remembers smiling at the story of her romance with Victor Krum, at the rather shocking news of her developing relationship with Ron Weasley, at her ability to ground both Harry and Ron with only a glare and a few well-chosen words. It was comforting to know that the three of them would always bring out the best from each other, always complement one another's personality.

He loved to know his best friend's son had found his own group of Marauders.

He felt warmth seep into his heart at the knowledge that so had little Hermione.

* * *

Except she wasn't so little anymore, not when he finally noticed her. They had been staying at Nº 12 Grimmauld Place for the Christmas holidays, waiting for the rest of the Order to arrive. It had been only Sirius, Molly, Remus, Harry, Ron and Hermione for a few days, all idly marking time and preparing themselves for war.

Remus looked up from the book he was perusing when Harry and Ron burst in, both wearing expressions he knew all too well. They were up to something. Remus could only hope this something didn't have anything to do with Voldemort, but with their being carefree 17 year olds for a change.

"Professor Lupin," Harry said. "D'you have a minute?"

"Of course, Harry. Is something wrong?"

"No. Well, not really. It's just that tomorrow… well, we sort of forgot…"

"It's Hermione's birthday tomorrow," Ron cut him off, his face scrunching up guiltily. "And what with everything going on here lately we forgot about it."

"Ah," understanding dawning in his eyes, Remus chuckled softly. "And now you're hoping I'll pull a rabbit out of my wand and help you find a gift for her?"

"Well, no. We're going out with my mum to try and find something later, but we need someone to distract her for a while. Maybe you could convince her to stick around and, I dunno, talk about books or something?"

"I highly doubt Hermione will be that easy to fool, boys."

"We're telling her we'll go check out Quidditch shops. If you happened to mention you've been having troubles with some spell lately, I'm sure she'd want to stay with you and help you out."

Remus had to hide a grin behind his book at their convoluted plan. "You know her very well, don't you?"

"She's our friend," said Harry simply. "Will you help us?"

"Of course."

And so he had. He had found Hermione in the kitchen, busying herself with a kettle- the Muggle way. She threw him a glance over her shoulder and grinned when she noticed his confusion. "Professor. Would you like some tea?"

"Hermione. I would, thanks. Are you having problems with your wand?"

"No, my wand's working just fine. But I wanted… I don't know," she sighed, ran a hand through her tangled mass of hair. "Everything's so complicated now, I guess I needed to remind myself of what it's like to be a Muggle. Just for a little while."

He tilted his head, slowly taking in her features. She had grown up, he realized with an inner jolt. Sometime, somehow, she had become a young woman who was deeply aware of the significance of war and was willing to put up a fight anyway.

It pained him to know that, one generation later, Voldemort was still taking childhoods away.

"I understand," said Remus softly, his blue eyes meeting her chocolate ones. There was determination in them, he noticed. Determination and pride. She didn't want his pity, so he didn't offer it, and flashed his most mischievous smile instead. "I have to admit, non-magical teas are not something I'm used to. Should I be frightened?"

She tried to glare at him, but the effect was ruined by the twitch of her lips. "I'll have you know, Professor, that I am rather skilled at Muggle behaviour, being Muggle-born myself. I make most delightful tea."

"Is that so? Well then, I suppose you won't object to my trying it instead of taking your word for it. Actually," he added, aiming for nonchalance. "I was rather hoping you could help me go through some books over tea."

She peered at him suspiciously. "Harry and Ron talked you into keeping me inside the house, did they?"

"No, of course not. I was just… I needed…" at a loss for words, he could do nothing but stare, surprised when she simply threw her head back and giggled.

"You're a horrible liar, Professor, has anyone ever told you that?"

"Several people, as a matter of fact," admitting defeat, he smiled sheepishly at her. "What gave it away?"

"That you're not one to ask for help with books when you're perfectly capable of going over them on your own, for starters," she shook her head, grinning. "That, and Harry and Ron were rather… _insistent_ about me staying here. _'We're just going to a Quidditch shop, Hermione! You'd do better to just stay home with one of your bloody books'_".

He let out a bark of laughter at her shockingly accurate impersonation of Ron. "Well, you can't blame the boy, now can you, Miss Granger? You _can_ be remarkably stubborn."

"Thank you," she said brightly, and set a steaming cup in front of him. "But I'll take pity on you, and won't ask what they're really up to."

"What makes you think they're not really in a Quidditch supplies shop?"

Hermione looked at him with something akin to pity. "Oh, honestly, Professor. I've been their best friend for the past six years. I know when they're lying to me," she shrugged a slim shoulder and sat on the chair across from him.

"Fine," Remus raised his hands in defeat. "I give up. Will you stay here nonetheless?"

"Yes. If they're so desperate to keep me here, they must have a good reason. And it can't be related to You-Kn… to _Voldemort_, because Mrs Weasley wouldn't let them do anything stupid. _And_ they were right. I'd rather stay home and read. I haven't even started studying for my NEWTs yet."

His eyes darkened ever so slightly. "Hermione…"

"I _know_ there's a chance I won't make it. But whatever happens, I don't want to look back with regret."

"I always knew you were extraordinarily clever, Hermione," said Remus after a pause. "But I don't think I ever realised how very much wise you also are."

A pale blush tinted her cheeks at the compliment. She hesitated only a second, before reaching out and covering his hand with one of her own. "Thank you, Professor."

He looked down at her hand, then back up at her face. Something in his stomach tightened, a vague stirring he promptly ignored. "Remus," he muttered, looking her straight in the eye. "You can call me Remus."

* * *

In retrospective, he thinks that's how it started. She sneaked up on him, grown up and beautiful inside and out, taking his breath away when he least expected it. He spent that first night still reeling from their encounter, seemingly unable to keep her chocolate brown eyes and quick grin out of his mind.

He told himself he was simply worried about her. She had, after all, shown him more kindness than most people he'd ever known. It was only natural that he'd want to keep her safe.

But he couldn't find a way to explain why, all of a sudden, the knowledge that Hermione was sleeping just a few rooms away twisted his stomach in knots.

He sat up in bed, tiredly rubbing a hand against his face. He wasn't going to fall asleep any time soon, that much was obvious. Making a decision, Remus got up and pulled some old robes over his head. Perhaps Sirius kept some chocolate in the kitchen.

The door of his room creaked slowly when he opened it, reminding him that he'd forgotten to renew the Silencing Charm on it. He started down the stairs with a grimace, trying to keep as quiet as he could. He was halfway to the kitchen when the pale light coming from the door to the library caught his eye. Remus hesitated, before softly pushing the door open and peeking inside.

Hermione was sitting on the carpet, knees drawn to her chest and eyes fixated upon the fire. She was wearing what he assumed were Muggle pyjamas, her brown curls reflecting the flames.

"Hermione?" He managed, despite the fact that his throat had gone dry.

"Prof- Remus?" Hermione looked up from the fire. "What are you doing up so late?"

"I ran out of chocolate. What's your excuse?"

"I couldn't sleep," she smiled awkwardly, but held his gaze. "I thought I'd write to my parents, make sure they're okay."

"Have you heard from them lately?"

"Yes. They owled me my birthday present a couple of days ago. A first edition of one of my favourite books."

"I…" suddenly realising he didn't have a present for her, he stammered. "Oh, well… I didn't think…"

"It's okay, Professor. You didn't even know about it until a few hours ago," she bit her lower lip. "Oh, I didn't mean…"

He chuckled at that. "It's okay. But I do owe you a birthday present."

"You don't have to…"

"I want to," his smile widened. "Perhaps a new copy of _Hogwarts: A History_, I imagine yours is rather worn out by now," Hermione flushed guiltily at this, and Remus couldn't help but laugh. "Ah, yes, a new copy it is."

"Thank you," she tilted her head. "What about you? What is keeping you up so late?"

_Madness_, he thought, but shrugged. "Too much on my mind. Chocolate usually helps me sleep when I go through a bout of insomnia, so I thought I'd see if I could steal some from Sirius."

"Do you want to stay with me for a little while?"

"Oh. Well…"

"You don't have to, of course, I just thought…"

"Hermione," he cut her off, and slid down on the floor next to her. "I'd love to," she smiled at him, beaming. His heart started racing. He tried to think, tried to search for a safe topic of conversation to latch on to. "You know," he said softly, smiling genuinely when he realised something. "It technically is tomorrow already."

She grinned. "It is, isn't it? Honestly, I thought my eighteenth birthday would come with some grand revelation of wisdom. But really, it doesn't feel all that different from being seventeen. Why do people make such a big deal out of it, again?"

Remus laughed, amusement dancing in his eyes. "No idea. But either way," he reached out, tucked a messy lock of hair behind her ear, "Happy birthday, Hermione."

* * *

He stayed out of her way after that night. Days passed, then weeks, and all throughout Remus kept a careful distance. He was always polite, always making sure he treated Hermione like he treated Harry and Ron, but he avoided being alone with her, and he kept his eyes trained to avert her as subtly as possible whenever they were in the same room. The rest of the Order arrived the day after their conversation in the library, making it easier for him to duck out of her way or engage in conversation with other people, leaving no room for awkward silences, or, worse, desire-ridden glances. Because that was the gist of it. He was attracted to her. To her, _Hermione Granger_, 18 years old, bookworm extraordinaire, his former student.

He'd spent weeks trying to convince himself that it was only temporary insanity. Hours were spent making excuses for his new and disconcerting feelings. She was the only single woman in a house full of men; it had been months since he had been with a woman in the first place; it was just his natural concern for her, magnified by the rather extraordinary circumstances they found themselves in. But in the end, he had had to accept they were only that: excuses.

When the Order filled the house, Nymphadora Tonks had made it clear she was interested in him. Granted, it had taken Arthur sitting him down and telling him to open his bloody eyes once and for all for him to see it, but either way, it had forced Remus to face the truth. Tonks was pretty, funny, kind, basically everything he looked for in a woman. He liked her a lot and he respected her a great deal. But he was not attracted to her. His stomach didn't twist itself up when she was nearby and her scent didn't make his skin erupt in goosebumps. He didn't find himself straining his ears in an attempt to catch her voice when they all gathered together for dinner. And it wasn't her eyes, her lips or her body the ones that kept him awake at night, coming up with one pitiful fantasy after another. That was all Hermione.

Of course, as soon as he came to terms with that simple fact, Remus began to struggle with putting those feelings on the back of his mind. It wasn't just that she was too young, though that was definitely part of the problem. It was that _he_ was _too old_. Worse, if by some miracle Hermione happened to return some of his feelings, he would put her in danger simply by being who he was. Jaded old werewolves had nothing to do with brilliant young witches, Remus had long ago accepted that. And it didn't matter if she made him feel a little like the boy he had been twenty years ago, or that she had made it perfectly clear that she enjoyed his company and valued his intelligence. It didn't change who (or what) he was.

Hermione Granger was off limits, and Remus would simply have to deal with that.

_Or maybe be_

_Everything that I never thought could happen_

_Or ever come to pass_

However, he didn't count on one detail: Hermione didn't seem prone to cooperate.

She was everywhere. If he said he didn't feel well and retired early, she went knocking on his door, a hot cup of chocolate in her hands and hours' worth of conversation on her lips. The night before the full moon she managed to engage him in a debate about house-elves' rights, completely disregarding the fact that Remus usually preferred to spend it alone, worrying about the following night, and making _him_ disregard it as well. When he missed James and Lily and Peter, she'd squeeze his shoulder reassuringly before plopping down with a book next to him, and they'd both spend the evening in comfortable silence.

She seemed to know when to talk, when to leave him alone and when to stay close but silent, all without Remus so much as having to utter a word. It was more than just a little unnerving to think that Hermione could read him so effortlessly.

He tried not to think about how much time she must have spent studying him in order to achieve such knowledge. It didn't do any good to dwell on it. And if sometimes he lost his daily inner battle and let his gaze travel to Hermione, only to find her looking at him in return, well, that was simply a cruel coincidence.

_And I wonder_

_If maybe_

_Maybe I could be_

_All you ever dreamed_

Except maybe it wasn't.

Much like it happened with Nymphadora, it wasn't until someone else sat him down and made him examine the facts that Remus allowed himself to even entertain the possibility that maybe, just maybe, Hermione liked him back. However, this time it was not Arthur, thank Merlin. It was Sirius.

"She has a crush on you," his best friend pointed out thickly, holding a half-empty glass of Firewhiskey in one hand.

It was late at night, and they'd just been through yet another seemingly interminable Order meeting. It had been a particularly exhausting night, so almost everyone had already either left the house or gone to bed. Only Remus and Sirius remained in the library, Remus turning the pages of a book he was not reading and Sirius absentmindedly staring at the flames in the fireplace. The crackling they made was the only sound in the room.

That is, of course, until Sirius blurted out his rather cryptic sentence.

"Excuse me?"

"Hermione. She has a crush on you," the look on Remus' face made him chuckle. "Why am I even surprised that you haven't noticed?"

"You're drunk."

"Not yet, but I certainly will be in about twenty minutes, so pay attention while I know what I'm saying. Hermione has been making eyes at you ever since she first got to this house two years ago. And before you ask, I never said anything because it was pointless. I didn't think she would ever do anything to humiliate herself or make you uncomfortable. Now it's different, because you're making eyes at her, too."

"I don't know what…"

"Save it. I know you too well. You would never do anything about it either, I know, but I want to tell you to be careful anyway. She's of age, so there's technically nothing wrong with the two of you heading that way, but she's my godson's best friend. If she gets hurt, so will Harry."

"I may not be his godfather, Sirius," said Remus quietly. "But I love Harry just as much as you do. And I care about Hermione too much to ever do anything to hurt her. I'm surprised you think I would."

"I _don't_, you arsehole, not like that. That's the point. You've been avoiding her, and she knows it. I wouldn't be surprised if it turns out that she thinks you realised what she feels for you so you're trying to let her down easy."

"Isn't that what I should do, _if_ your insane theory happened to be correct?"

Sirius muttered something that sounded suspiciously like '_the insecure bloody idiot_'. "No, you tactless git. What you _should_ do if you want things to stay the same is act the exact same way you did before you realised she's a woman, and no longer a child."

Remus scowled. He didn't fancy himself oversensitive, but to have Sirius Black, of all people, lecture him on tact was a bit of a stretch. "Any other piece of advice you think I need to hear?" He asked in a deceptively polite tone, one he knew his friend would recognise as the one he employed when he was feeling belligerent.

"As a matter of fact, yeah. Stop beating yourself up over this. You haven't actually done anything but indulge in what I reckon were some rather delightful fantasies concerning an attractive, unattached witch. And anyway, it's not like you had a thing for her when she was thirteen, is it?"

"When she… for Merlin's sake, no. Don't be disgusting."

"Ah, but how would I amuse myself then?" With a dark chuckle, Sirius returned to his drink. He waited a beat before adding, "Remus."

"What now?"

"It would all have been remarkably easier if you had just fallen for my cousin instead, you know that, yes?"

Remus merely glared at him, and went back to brooding.

* * *

It's been a week since Sirius' little speech, a week since an army of butterflies took up permanent residence in Remus' stomach at the prospect of Hermione having feelings for him. He hates how much he wants Sirius to be right. Having feelings for him is a sure way for a woman to end up heartbroken or, worse, a fate he doesn't wish to bestow on anyone, much less on someone he cares about so much. But Merlin help him, he wants her to want him back.

And a few days later, he allows himself to hope.

They're in the library- Sirius and Ron playing chess; Harry and Ginny cuddled up on the sofa; and Remus, Tonks and Bill talking, when Hermione walks in, pausing on the doorway before making her way to the shelves. He's caught up in the conversation, so he doesn't notice until later the way she keeps sneaking glances in his direction, her face falling slightly whenever Tonks places a hand on his arm or leans slightly against him.

All of a sudden, Remus' heart is beating wildly in his chest and he has a very hard time focusing on Bill and Tonks' reminiscences of their Hogwarts days. He nods politely every once in a while and does his best to look interested, while all the time wondering… was Sirius right? Could she really?

His eyes trail to Hermione as if on their own volition, lingering there for just a moment longer than strictly appropriate. When her gaze meets his, her expressive brown eyes staring back defiantly, Remus has to consciously fight back an awed smile.

Apparently she does.


End file.
